


worth the wait

by santiagoswagger



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, Romance, i invented so many ex-boyfriends for amy, sorry about the ridiculous length
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 13:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santiagoswagger/pseuds/santiagoswagger
Summary: Amy Santiago learns what love is, one relationship at a time.





	worth the wait

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of wine was consumed in the writing of this story. Enjoy!

When Amy Santiago was five years old, her kindergarten class held its first wedding on a Wednesday. Sarah Sanderson and Timmy Norris were wed in holy matrimony; Sarah wore a veil made from pink tissue she had stolen from the art classroom and Timmy picked some wildflowers from the playground for his bride-to-be to carry down the aisle. The two kindergarteners stumbled through a makeshift ceremony, promising to like each other forever and always share their snacks, even when they were super hungry. The entire class was giddy from the excitement and silliness of it all, none of them able to sleep during nap time afterwards. Amy, on the other hand, did not find the ceremony cute. At all. 

“Mama, it was a sham!”, she shouted, her long ponytail swinging in time with her rage. She slammed the car door behind her as she lugged her backpack up the driveway to the front door of the Santiago home. “Sarah and Timmy are too young to be married!” Her oldest brother Luis grabbed her backpack from her hands while she huffed and puffed. The entire family knew that when Amy made up her mind about something, it was all she could focus on. Taking the backpack from her now was the safest way to ensure it made it through the front door. 

Her mother smiled softly as she unlocked the door, letting her large brood in after a long day of school and extracurriculars. Amy’s three older brothers bounded through the door, heading straight for the kitchen to search for sustenance. Luis ruffled his little sister’s hair as he placed her floral backpack by the door on his way to the fridge. Camila Santiago shut the front door behind them and turned to her only daughter. She was exasperated, her little hands on her hips and her brow furrowed in indignation. 

Camila laughed at her daughter’s expression and crouched down to be level with Amy’s indignant face. “Mija, it wasn’t a real wedding. They were just having fun. Life shouldn’t be so serious, and neither should you, mi amor.” She brushed an errant hair out of her daughter’s face as the five year-old sighed. She hated being reminded that she wasn’t having enough fun. She firmly maintained that some things were meant to be taken seriously, otherwise what was the point?

“But Timmy and Sarah aren’t in love, mama. Aren’t you supposed to be in love before you get married?” 

The question surprised Camila. It was surprisingly deep for someone with only six months of kindergarten under her belt, but she had long known her daughter was brilliant. She moved toward the couch in the living room, the site of all important Santiago family talks, beckoning her daughter to follow her. As the little girl made herself comfortable, her mother decided to pick Amy’s brain. She tilted her head and posed a question of her own. “What do you think love is, mija?”

Amy looked off thoughtfully. She thought about the couples she had seen throughout her young life and looked for pattern and repetition, the way she solved all puzzles. She thought about the way her papa smiled at her mama whenever she entered the room. She thought about her abuela making her abuelo’s favorite breakfast every morning, kissing him on the cheek as she brought him a plate at their well-worn kitchen table. She thought about her older brother Luis and his girlfriend blushing beet-red every time they accidentally knocked shoulders while studying in the den. She put those thoughts together and formed a suitable answer for her mother. 

“Love is caring about someone just as much as you care about yourself. Love is being selfless.” She hoped it was the right answer. 

Her mother’s eyes sparkled as she laughed. “Yes, mi amor, that’s exactly what love is.” She pinched her daughter’s cheeks to show her pride and amusement. She couldn’t wait to tell Victor all about this conversation when he got home from the precinct later that evening. 

Amy beamed. Nothing beat the thrill of knowing the right answer. “So is that why Timmy and Sarah got married today?” 

“I suppose that’s why, yes.” 

Amy nodded. Her mother took that to mean the conversation was over, giving her daughter’s shoulder a comforting squeeze as she made her way to the kitchen to check on her rowdy sons. Amy stayed on the couch, lost in thought. 

She couldn’t imagine caring about someone else just as much as or more than her goals and aspirations, more than school even. But if Timmy and Sarah could fall in love, maybe she could too. 

x

When she was a junior in high school, Amy landed herself in the school nurse’s office no less than five times due to stress-related incidents. Between her string of AP classes, membership in over twelve school clubs, weekly volunteer work (she knew it would look great on her college applications), and studying for the ACTs and SATs, she ran out of time to take care of herself. If she was going to be the youngest police captain in the history of the NYPD like she had declared to her family at age seven, she had to run herself ragged. There was no time for sleep! 

On her third visit to Nurse Alvarez’s office after fainting during gym class (she had skipped lunch to study for her AP Chem test), she found herself sitting across from Ben Jenkins. She recognized him from her AP English class sophomore year and she knew him as the Assistant Editor of the school paper, but they had never spoken before. His shaggy blonde hair was too long and he constantly had to whip his head back to clear it from his eyes. As she chewed a granola bar under the nurse’s watchful eye, Amy couldn’t help but sneak glances at the boy sitting in the chair across from her. He had his right ankle raised, resting on a chair directly in front of him and he was icing it carefully. 

The fourth time she glanced over at him, she found him staring right back. She almost choked on her granola bar. 

“Hey, I’m Ben. You’re Amy, right?” 

She swung her head back, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears. “Yeah, how did you know?” 

“You’re practically in every club,” he laughed. She cringed in response. Of course he was mocking her. Her favorite brother Anton constantly told her she was too intense for guys her age and she supposed this was the proof.

Ben, realizing his mistake, immediately backtracked. “It’s not a bad thing! It’s actually really impressive. I don’t know how you have time to do it all.” 

Amy was taken aback by how earnest he was. “I don’t, really. I didn’t eat lunch today so I fainted during gym. That’s why I’m here.” He laughed at that, her own small laugh joining in. 

“If it makes you feel any better, that’s less embarrassing than the reason I’m here,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling. Amy raised her eyebrows at him in challenge. 

“I was late for my third period class because I stayed behind in the newsroom to finish an article,” he started, a sheepish smile on his face. “I decided to run all the way there and, like an idiot, I tripped over my own shoelaces and twisted my ankle.” He waited for her reaction. 

Amy stared for a moment before busting out into laughter. “Oh my god, I didn’t even know it was possible to actually trip over your own shoelaces!” 

“Hey, come on. I didn’t want to be late for class! Mr. Wilson’s such a hard-ass.” 

“I suppose I can’t knock you for your dedication to schoolwork.” She couldn’t stop smiling at him. An unfamiliar warmth spread through her and she felt her stomach lurch with what she was sure were cartwheels. 

Nurse Alvarez came out of the back room of her office to check on them just then, bursting their shiny, happy bubble. Amy had almost forgotten where they were, she just wanted to hear him laugh again. 

The nurse turned to her, looking between the two students in amusement. “If you’re feeling better, Ms. Santiago, you’re free to go.” She handed her a few granola bars for the road. “No more skipping lunch, understood?” 

Amy took the food with a small smile, their wrappers crunching as she stuffed them into her backpack. She heard the nurse telling Ben he needed to keep his leg elevated and iced for another half an hour before heading back to her office. 

Amy got up to leave, suddenly anxious again about missing class now that the bubble had been burst. She waved goodbye to Ben and headed for the door, already thinking about who she could borrow calculus notes from when she heard him clear his throat. She turned around to find him looking shy and embarrassed. He was scratching the back of his neck which was now completely pink. 

“Uh…Amy, would you – I mean, if you want,” he stuttered. Amy swooned inwardly and decided to take pity on him. 

“I’d love to see you again.” His eyes widened in wonder and relief before he chuckled. She had no idea where her boldness had come from but she loved the way he made her feel, like she could punch straight through a brick wall. 

They made plans to go out for pizza and a movie the next night, the perfect first date. Soon enough, Amy Santiago had her first serious boyfriend. Ben would come to her house every Tuesday night so they could study together, bumping shoulders and smiling the way she remembered her older brothers doing with their girlfriends. Amy made sure to never skip lunch again, not with Ben there to greet her in the cafeteria with a kiss on the cheek and her favorite sandwich. For the first time, Amy felt like she belonged somewhere. The warmth that first greeted her in the nurse’s office stayed with her, settling into her stomach like a bowl of her mom’s black bean soup. Ben was the sun and Amy couldn’t help but stare directly into his light. 

Ben and Amy dated for the next two years. He was smart and motivated, dreaming of one day becoming the editor of the New York Times. Best of all, he supported her dreams, never once doubting or snorting at her ambitions of becoming a cop. He wanted her to have whatever she wanted, and she wanted the same for him in return. She told him she loved him after a year of dating when he surprised her with a Miami Vice marathon after a particularly rough week of college applications.

They broke up as their high school years wound to a close. Amy had been accepted to NYU for college and Ben was set to go to Brown. Ben tried to convince her they could easily maintain a relationship despite the distance but Amy’s logical side won out (it always did). She knew, and he did too deep down, that they would only hold each other back. 

As Amy hugged Ben goodbye and watched him walk down her driveway for the last time, tears clouding her vision, she wondered if logic would always be her downfall. 

x

NYU was a new beginning for Amy and she walked into her dorm room on move-in day resolved to make the most of the next four years. She had fought tooth and nail in high school to get there, with a kick-ass scholarship to show for it, so she decided to give herself a bit of a break. 

Her whole life, she had been told to stop being so careful, to let life happen to her. Her mother’s favorite saying rang in her ear like a persistent mosquito: “Life shouldn’t be so serious and neither should you, mi amor.” So, Amy pushed down her anxiety, ignored her natural instincts and let her new roommate convince her to go to a party that night. 

Her roommate Shelly was tall and blonde, a California transplant ready to take on New York City. Shelly had heard from some guys in the hall that there would be a party that night at Third North and begged Amy to go with her. Amy agreed, both terrified and exhilarated by the idea of going to her first college party. If her mother wouldn’t be so horrified at the prospect of underage drinking, Amy wouldn’t hesitate to tell her how far outside her comfort zone she was going - and it was only the first day. 

Shelly and Amy got ready to go together before heading out into the night. Shelly chattered all the way to Third North about how they could decorate their dorm room but Amy couldn’t bring herself to listen. Shelly’s voice was a light buzzing in her ear, not loud enough to distract her from the seed of dread she felt embedding in her stomach. She wasn’t even at the party yet and she was already overanalyzing – What if she drank too much and got sick all over some stranger’s dorm? What if Shelly ditched her and she had to walk back to her room alone? What if everyone she met thought she was boring? What if she said the wrong thing and everyone laughed at her? The thoughts bombarded her brain until shrieks of laughter saved her from insanity. 

Amy shook herself from her mind prison and took in her surroundings, suddenly aware that Shelly was dragging her into a crowded dorm room by the sleeve of her dress. There were tons of people drinking from red cups, talking and laughing as if this wasn’t the first day of the rest of their lives. She saw a group of guys standing in a circle shotgunning cans of cheap beer, their cheeks red from the alcohol. Shelly made them both some drinks, handing one to Amy as she took a sip from her own cup. Amy sniffed hers and Shelly chuckled kindly. 

“I promise I didn’t poison it,” she said, smiling. “Just try it and if you hate it, I’ll get you something else.” Amy thought she was doing a good job of hiding her anxiety but Shelly had clearly picked up on it. 

Amy took a sip and smiled. “Okay, not the worst thing I’ve ever had.” 

“Duh, I would never steer you wrong.” Shelly linked her right arm with Amy’s left as they surveyed the party. The shotgunners had now moved on to keg stands; Amy wrinkled her nose at them. 

While Amy was silently judging the drunkest guys at the party, gulping her drink so her hands would stop fidgeting, Shelly was distracted by something else. She smirked as she turned to Amy, whispering, “There’s a guy over there that won’t stop staring at you.” 

Amy turned to her, frowning in disbelief. “I don’t believe you. Where?”

“Over by the couple that won’t stop making out.”

Amy looked and, sure enough, there was someone all-out staring at her from within a cluster of guys. He had dark cropped hair and his eyes were pointed at her like laser beams. He averted his eyes when he realized he’d been caught by her, an attractive flush creeping up his neck. Flustered, Amy sucked in a breath and Shelly barked out a loud laugh. 

“Go talk to him!” Shelly whispered, her wavy hair dancing as she unhooked her arm from Amy’s. She used her newly free arm to take Amy’s now empty red cup and gently push her forward, her flats dragging against the stained carpet. Amy could hear Shelly openly giggling at her as she propelled herself towards the stranger. She was suddenly self-conscious in her favorite red dress and she stared at the ground the rest of the way over. 

When her sensible flats reached his scuffed sneakers, she finally forced herself to look up. Her eyes met his and she was struck by a warmth she hadn’t seen from across the room. He had edged away from his friends when he saw her coming towards him, which she was silently thankful for. The less people around to witness her abject humiliation, the better. 

“Hi,” he smiled at her. “I’m Daniel.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers, which she accepted gratefully. She loved a polite greeting, especially in such a chaotic environment. 

“Amy,” she said shyly, mentally berating herself for not being more confident. This was supposed to be her night of redemption, damn it!

He grinned. “Sorry for staring at you like a creep. You just looked so cute over by the door.” His eyes never looked away from hers and she blushed in spite of herself. She wasn’t used to forwardness; her entire courtship with Ben had been sweet but stilted and she had always been the one to propel the relationship forward. It was nice to be pursued for once but she couldn’t help feeling exposed, like he could read her every embarrassing thought. “This isn’t really your scene, is it?” 

Yep, he could definitely read her thoughts. Amy groaned and covered her face with her hands “Ugh, is it that obvious?” 

Daniel laughed and gingerly took her hands from her face, rather boldly for someone she’d just met. His hands were solid around hers and she felt emboldened by the warmth their connection created. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s cute. I’ll show you the ropes.” She looked up at him, saw his sincerity and, briefly, a flash of desire as he looked her up and down. For the first time that night, she didn’t feel like the nerdiest girl in the room. 

They talked all night, sharing their fears about college and trying to guess what the keg stand guys would be majoring in. He held her hand the whole time and she shrieked with laughter at all of his jokes, fueled by alcohol and the excitement of the unknown. When Shelly tentatively wandered over to check on her, Amy waved her away without breaking Daniel’s focused eye contact. 

The party effectively ended when one of the keg stand guys barfed his beer up all over the carpet. Daniel walked Amy across campus back to her dorm, kissing her fervently against the door. Electricity shot up from her toes all the way to her brain at the feel of her lips on his and when he finally pulled away, she was lightheaded. A week later, Daniel Cruz and Amy Santiago officially became Daniel and Amy. 

She surprised herself at how quickly she fell into step with someone new, especially after spending most of the summer trying to forget the hurt on Ben’s face as he walked down her driveway. But Daniel was all adventure and excitement and Amy felt like she’d finally figured out how to let life happen to her. He pulled her out of her comfort zone one step at a time, never pushing her too far beyond her limits and caressing her hand with the pads of his thumb whenever she was on the cusp of a Classic Santiago Freak-out, which occurred often after classes started. He took the lead and made her feel safe, even when she was so far outside her comfort zone she thought she’d never make it back to safety. 

She had never felt this kind of physical attraction to another human being before. He was the positive charge to her negative as they came together like magnets, the pull impossible to ignore. She felt most like herself curled up with him in the afterglow, his fingers tracing patterns over her bare skin in the dark of his dorm room as she sighed contentedly, her brain veering from thoughts of baroque architecture and surprise pop quizzes for a short, blissful time. 

The bliss continued on for most of her freshman year and her ability to balance a successful, healthy relationship with maintaining a 4.0 GPA was a huge point of pride for Amy that she never failed to brag about to anyone who would listen. That is, until the day she walked into Daniel’s room one Friday night after a marathon study session at the library to find another girl nestled in her boyfriend’s arms, his fingers tracing the same patterns on her skin that were usually reserved for Amy. 

As she waited outside his room for Daniel to get dressed so she could dump him, tears streamed down Amy’s face. The guard she had let down over the last few months went back up taller than ever and she wiped angrily at her face, willing the tears to stop flowing. She was taking back control. Letting life happen to her had brought her to this moment, and she never wanted to let go again. 

x

The next three years of college flew by for Amy. After her relationship with Daniel ended so disastrously, she threw herself into schoolwork and set her sights once again on the Police Academy. Sure, she went on the occasional date – it was college after all and she wasn’t a nun - but she never veered so far from her comfort zone again. Amy was nothing if not in control of her life; she made her decisions thoughtfully and her success was achieved through hard work and determination, just the way she’d always thought it should be. 

When she graduated from NYU (Summa Cum Laude, thank you very much), she took the summer off to get in shape and spend time with her family before entering the fresh hell that is police academy. She knew she’d be one of the youngest recruits, probably one of the only women too, and she wanted to show up on day one and prove herself worthy. She even crafted herself a binder in preparation, full of reading material and a strict calendar of daily exercise to adhere to. She showed it to her father when she was done and he had smiled, his moustache twitching with pride. 

As part of her exercise schedule, Amy went for a three-mile run every morning at a park by her parents’ house, the sound of her sneakers hitting the concrete never failing to center her. She would run her three miles without taking a break before ending up back at her parents’ driveway just in time for breakfast with the family. She was thankful for the routine because it allowed her to forget her anxieties about entering this new phase of life, if only for a little while. Plus, it was healthier than the shame smoking she’d picked up during finals her senior year of college. 

One morning when Amy was returning home after her run, sweaty and breathless, she saw someone waving her down from across the street. She blinked repeatedly, trying to make out who it could be; the wind had dried her contacts and forced her vision to blur. After a few seconds, she recognized the shadowy blob as her childhood neighbor, Matt. He was a couple years older than Amy and he had played with her brothers when they were kids, Amy always trying to include herself in their football games and bike riding adventures. When he had gone to the Catholic high school in town, the friendship between the kids had waned. Amy grinned brightly and jogged across the street to her old friend where he was leaning up against a car in his childhood driveway. The car was practically bursting with cardboard boxes and mismatched luggage. 

“Matt! How are you?” She gave him a light hug, not wanting to drench him with her sweat. He didn’t seem to mind, though, squeezing her tightly in return. 

He smiled at her as he pulled back. His brown hair and blue eyes hadn’t changed since childhood, but his body had definitely filled out; he’d aged well. “Amy Santiago, I can’t believe it’s you!” He shook his head in disbelief. “You are definitely not a five year-old anymore. I almost miss the pigtails.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. 

“Yeah, I left my pigtails behind in kindergarten when they got caught in that tree Luis dared me to climb.” They both laughed at the memory, her light giggle joining his loud chuckle. She liked the sound they made together. 

“What are you doing back home? I thought you were living in Boston?” she asked. 

“I’m starting law school this fall and my lease in Boston just ended so I’m home for the summer. What about you?”

“No way, me too!” She cringed inwardly. Come on, Amy. “Not law school, but I’m starting at the police academy in September so I’m home for the summer as well.”

He practically beamed at her. “You got into the academy, just like you’d always wanted? That’s amazing!” He held up his hand for a high five, their hands making a pleasant clack at contact. “Youngest captain in the NYPD, right?”

She was taken aback; she couldn’t believe he remembered her childhood dream. Most of her own brothers were shocked when they discovered she was applying to the academy because they thought she had outgrown seven year-old Amy’s aspirations. “Yeah, I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“Well, you made us play cops and robbers all the time when we were kids and cried every time Anton forced you to be a robber.” They both laughed again, the weight of their shared history between them. 

When the laughter subsided, Amy glanced at her watch and realized she was nearly twenty minutes behind her schedule for the day. She struggled internally, torn between not wanting to abruptly end her conversation with Matt, which was going so well, and her unwavering loyalty to the binder she had painstakingly produced. As always, the binder won out. 

“Well, I should get going. I’ll leave you to unpack.” She gestured at his jam-packed car. He nodded at her and she turned to go back home. If she skipped breakfast and went straight for the shower, she could still salvage her schedule for the day. As she was doing the mental math, she heard Matt clear his throat behind her. 

She turned around to find him smiling at her again, his eyes brimming with affection and something else she couldn’t identify – bashfulness? Young Matt Moretti had been confident to a fault, but Adult Matt Moretti seemed to have learned his lesson. 

“Hey, I don’t really know anyone here anymore. Would you maybe want to hang out this weekend? I’ve heard there are actually some decent bars in town now.” His eyebrows raised slightly in hope. 

Amy tilted her head at him, a smile slowly forming on her face as she ignored the rolls of sweat streaking down her forehead. Cursing humidity for existing at all, Amy nodded at him. “Yeah, I’d love to.” 

They exchanged phone numbers and waved goodbye yet again, making plans to meet up on Friday night to check out a new local brewery. They had a good time, trading childhood memories and catching up on their years apart; he clutched her shoulder every time he laughed with her, and Amy missed the feel of it every time he pulled away. Soon, that Friday night turned into a weekly event. The destination changed from week to week but their easy chemistry was always present. After five consecutive Fridays, Amy realized she was maybe, possibly dating Matt Moretti. When she told him about her revelation, he simply smiled and squeezed her hand. She noticed he didn’t contradict her, her stomach suddenly warm with promise. 

The rest of the summer flew by in a haze of happiness. She still stuck to her exercise routine and reading materials – she wasn’t an idiot – but her Fridays with Matt (and some days in between) helped ground her in reality and gave her a necessary break from her own insanity. He sometimes joined her on her morning runs, kissing her sweetly at the end of her driveway when they returned. Her parents were over the moon, Camila especially; she’d always had a soft spot for Matt, remembering him as the neighbor boy that kept her sons in line even when he joined them for their escapades. Amy didn’t need to explain anything about herself to him, he already knew. 

When September rolled around, Matt and Amy both made their way up to the city – Amy to the police academy, Matt to Columbia for law school. Amy had initially worried that the stress of their new lives would take a toll on the relationship but she was dead wrong. Matt would show up at her apartment after every rough day at the academy with takeout and wine, massaging her sore shoulders as she watched Law & Order re-runs. In turn, she would help him study for class, rewarding him with a proud kiss each time he got an answer right. When she graduated from the academy at the top of her class, Matt was right there in the front row with her parents, cheering just loud enough to turn her ears red. When she told him she loved him that night, she had never meant it more. 

They decided to take the plunge and move in together before Matt’s second year of school. She was working as a beat cop by then and Matt was working part-time at a bookstore to earn some extra cash so it was doable. Their tiny Brooklyn apartment wasn’t glamorous by any means and the sketchy elevator horrified Amy’s mother, but it was their safe haven. They developed a routine: Matt would make Amy breakfast and coffee before she left for work every morning and Amy would pick up food for dinner each night on her way home, Friday nights were reserved for date night and Amy still helped Matt study for every test and quiz. She even made him a study schedule to adhere to; he laughed and kissed her when she gifted it to him, rolling his eyes affectionately, but she knew he used it every day. 

When Matt graduated from law school two years later, they had settled into a rhythm. It was comfortable and they loved each other but the stress of studying for the New York bar exam had really taken a toll on Matt, which also meant that it took a toll on Amy. By the time Matt passed the bar and accepted a job offer at a corporate firm in Manhattan, their routine had turned from comfortable to contentious. They were both textbook overachievers with huge aspirations, which meant that they hardly ever saw each other; when they did, they argued over the tiniest things – just the thought of Matt’s dirty socks on the bathroom floor made Amy’s blood boil over with rage. 

The night Matt came home from a networking event his law firm had thrown armed with a few new jokes about cops, Amy had finally had enough. The relationship was over before sunrise. After all, cops and attorneys went together like oil and water. 

Amy let herself mourn the relationship for two weeks, buying overpriced ice cream from the bodega down the street and watching Fargo through her tears. She mourned the loss of her old friend just as much as she mourned the loss of her boyfriend. No one would ever know or accept her the way he had. The second night alone in her quiet apartment, once theirs, Amy, realized that love wasn’t enough to make a relationship work. 

When her two-week mourning period was up, Amy threw herself into her job with renewed vigor. She stayed late at the precinct nearly every night, took extra shifts to give her colleagues a break and volunteered for every community outreach opportunity that came across her desk. Her efforts paid off two months later when she finally made detective and was transferred to the ninety-ninth precinct. 

x

Four years into her stint as a detective, Amy was always on the lookout for ways to keep herself sharp and informed. She didn’t want to become one of those complacent cops happy to do the bare minimum and collect their pension at retirement. She had nightmares of turning into Scully and Hitchcock, stuffing her face with potato chips and losing all feeling in her extremities. Plus, she wanted to be able to outdo Peralta whenever and wherever she could. When she received a pamphlet for Code Camp in the mail, she jumped at the opportunity to spend a weekend brushing up on her police codes. 

Amy strode into the white-walled classroom fifteen minutes early on day one, armed with her trusty notebook and her best pen. She glanced around to determine where she should sit; she knew whichever seat she chose now would be her seat for the entire class. There were only three people in the room so far, and Amy mentally congratulated herself for being so prepared. One officer was sitting in the front row, which meant she was most likely dedicated and ready to learn. On closer inspection, Amy saw she had what looked to be an entire pharmacy cluttering the desk around her – she was probably sick and Amy refused take any chances with germs, especially on the first day. She moved her eyes to the second officer in the room who was sitting in the back and playing Kwazy Kupcakes on his phone – slacker. No, thanks. The third officer was sitting smack dab in the middle of the room, his notebook open to a crisp, blank page and his pens ordered neatly on the desk according to color. Bingo. 

Amy walked over to the officer and gingerly set her bag down on the cheap, plastic desk next to him. The noise startled him from his reading and he looked up at her, his sandy brown hair stuck up in an ordered sort of way. His brown eyes were kind as they took her in. 

“Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked. 

He smiled and shook his head, pulling the chair out for her. “No, of course not. Please sit.” 

She thanked him and took the seat, organizing herself before the class started. She pulled out her favorite floral stationery and straightened it out on the desk in front of her. It had taken her nearly an hour-and-a-half to pick it out and she was elated to be using it for the first time.  
“Sorry, but is that stationery from Il Papiro on Lexington?” She looked up to find her desk mate staring at her with wide eyes. 

Amy furrowed her brow in surprise, her mouth turning up at the corners. “Yes, it is! You’ve heard of Il Papiro?” She didn’t know anyone else who loved stationery as much as she did, let alone a male cop. Peralta wouldn’t know a flat card if it punched him in the face.

The other officer’s face lit up. “I go there once a week, minimum. I saw your stationery there last week and remember thinking how refined and elegant it was.”

She smiled back at him. “Thank you. I’m Amy Santiago, by the way. I’m a detective at the nine-nine.” She extended her hand, making sure to apply the right amount of pressure and shake his hand three times, just like she’d learned at the Learning Annex seminar on appropriate professional greetings she’d taken two years previously. 

He shook her hand in earnest. “Detective Teddy Wells, I’m with the one-hundred and fifth in Queens.” 

Amy smiled. “Nice to meet you, Teddy Wells.”

The rest of their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the Code Camp teacher, a stern looking woman in dress blues. Amy looked around, startled to find that a dozen or so other officers had entered the classroom. She had been so caught up in her conversation with Detective Wells that she hadn’t even noticed. Teddy shot her a restrained smile as the teacher began talking, and Amy knew that their conversation had only just begun. 

Teddy and Amy became fast friends that weekend and they partnered up for all class exercises, spending all their lunch and snack breaks quizzing each other on codes. Needless to say, they dominated Code Camp. Amy found Teddy to be smart and sweet, if a little reserved, so when he asked her to get a drink at the end of the camp, she readily accepted. 

That drink, at a beer garden in Queens that Teddy swore by, turned into five more dates and Amy was enjoying herself. Teddy checked all of her boxes, but she couldn’t help feeling like something was off between them. It had been a while since Amy had made it past three dates with a guy; as she constantly told her worried mother during their weekly phone calls, her job was the love of her life and any guy she dated would just have to understand. So, when Teddy cancelled two dates in a row to stay late at the precinct, she wasn’t too disappointed. He was nice enough, but work came first. And Queens was too far to go for nice. 

The next year was spent in a flurry of late nights and extra shifts, trying her hardest to beat Peralta and win their stupid bet. She almost forgot about Teddy Wells until he showed up at Tactical Village, a newly-minted detective with the eight-two. Her surprise at seeing him after all that time gave way to genuine happiness when they fell back into the rapport they had developed during those long hours at Code Camp. He loved being a cop and he was good at it, and she found it kind of attractive. Success was sexy to Amy Santiago. 

She couldn’t be happier to be Teddy Wells’ girlfriend. He was smart and positive, always determined to see the best in everyone; in a word, he was perfect. He was sweet, charming and respectful, a by-the-book cop who shared her passion for helping others. He took her to nice restaurants and told her she looked beautiful, making her feel like a woman instead of the overworked cop she usually saw when she looked in the mirror. Their relationship was healthy; they talked through their issues and always compromised when they stumbled onto a disagreement. It was good on paper and in practice, and Teddy was everything Amy had ever thought she wanted. 

Enter Jake Peralta. 

x

Her relationship with Teddy was over as soon as she heard the words ‘romantic stylez’, she just didn’t know it at the time. As Jake walked away from her under the orange glow of the parking lot street lamps, she forced herself to go through all of the events that had led her and Jake to this point: the discovery that he had turned down a relief team the night of their bet, his weird reaction to Teddy’s appearance at tactical village, every time she caught him covertly glancing at her from across their desks when he thought she wasn’t looking. How could she have not seen it? She cursed herself inwardly; leave it to Jake Peralta to make her feel like the second-best detective in the precinct just as he was going undercover. 

After that fateful night in the precinct parking lot, Amy found herself missing Jake. She missed him when he was gone for six months and she missed him even after he returned. She wasn’t sure when Jake Peralta had become her best friend but it was the unfortunate truth. No one would ever challenge her or encourage her the way he did, even when he was being an unbearable idiot (which was almost always). When they finally stopped tiptoeing around their feelings and spoke the words that had been weighing them down for nearly two years, Amy thought her heart and brain might simultaneously implode from shock – she was about to enter a mature, adult relationship with her goofball of a partner. 

Six months in, she realized with a resigned smile and a stunned laugh that she was in love with Jake Peralta. Amy loved order, but she thrived in chaos. When Camila Santiago, shocked that her daughter had fallen for the man-child at work she had been complaining about for the past four years, asked her how she knew she was in love, Amy shrugged and said, “I just do, mama.”

It was in the way his eyes softened every time she entered the bullpen in the morning, even when she had just seen him an hour before in his apartment. 

It was in the way she smiled at him when she was the first to wake in the morning, playing with his messy curls until he’s startled from sleep at her touch, yawning with a grin of his own plastered to his face. 

It was in the way he brought her a cup of coffee, made to her exacting standards, every time he went to get one for himself when they were working a double shift. 

It was in the way she took care of him when he was sick, listening to him rant about how justice never rests for the stupid flu even as he gratefully took the warm bowl of chicken soup she offered. 

It was in the way he teased her after every awkward interaction with Holt, always with teasing affection and never with malice. 

It was in the way she laughed at his stupid puns because she loved the little look of pride his face took on every time he thought of a good one. 

It was in the way he kissed her and touched her every time she was worried or stressed or scared because that said more coming from him than any words could.

It was in the way she felt safe in his arms, curled up against him on her couch during a Die Hard marathon (the Die Hard marathons were rare but the feeling of his arms around her shoulders wasn’t). 

It was in the way he bought vegetables for her salads at the grocery store and kept them in his refrigerator, even though he called them ‘Satan’s candy.’

It was in the way she kept sour gummy worms in her desk for when he had to pull an all-nighter at the precinct and got too snacky to concentrate. 

At thirty-two, Amy Santiago knew much more about love than she had at the age of five. Her love for Jake couldn’t be boiled down to a word or a lesson, it was just something she felt and experienced every day. Love was a constant surprise, but so was Jake Peralta.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize profusely for the length of this beast, but I hope you liked it! I wanted to explore Amy as a character through her romantic relationships over the years and the decisions that led her to Jake but I hope I made it clear that she was never and is never defined by her boyfriends. Please let me know what you think in the comments! 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr @santiagoswagger!


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